


met in the middle

by PaperThinRevolutionary (SingFortissimo)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Different Love Languages, Fluff, M/M, alternate shows of affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingFortissimo/pseuds/PaperThinRevolutionary
Summary: John's affections were more subdued, and to some of his old flames, easy to miss. He liked doing things for people; things that, to John, showed affection just as much as the touching, if not more so.Or: The One Where Alex and John Meet in the Middle





	met in the middle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lafbaeyette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/gifts).
  * Inspired by [try new things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16035329) by [lafbaeyette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/lafbaeyette). 



Touch was new to John. It wouldn’t be unfair to say that he grew up in a relatively touchless environment after his mother passed away, and the only contact he really had after that were comforting touches that he would give his siblings every now and then, and only if they initiated. 

Even those felt forced after a little while, though, as he could only handle so much. 

Part of him, the darker and sadder recesses of his mind, didn’t want the physical contact because he didn’t want to replace any memories of his mother’s touches. Not that he would admit that, though. 

 

There were a few people he saw on and off through his life who were dead set on physical affection, and it left him a little uneasy if he was going to be honest. That is, until he met his current (and hopefully forever) beau, Alexander. 

Alexander _loved_ touches. He loved cuddles, soft affections, finger brushes, hand holding, whatever he could get. If he could weasel his way into touching John’s skin, he would do everything in his power to find a way. 

John just didn’t get it, but he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it. 

His affections were more subdued, and to some of his old flames, easy to miss. He liked doing things for people; things that, to John, showed affection just as much as the touching, if not more so. 

Gifts, he understood. Making and presenting were part of who he was and the biggest part of his affectionate communication. He loved to do, he loved to create. 

That made sense to him. 

Picking up a brush and painting something, hand stitching a small toy or accessory, sculpting, anything, really. Of the amalgamate mess of art that he knew and understood, any piece of creation was, to him, nothing but love in every stitch, stroke, or shape. He could pour his entirety into whatever he was creating, and he would think about the recipient the whole time. It was a part of John, and in some ways, a part of them, too. 

He had looked into the love languages at some point, wanting to understand just a little bit better what it all meant. He started in high school, when his first (and regrettable) love would make an ordeal out of it whenever John would shy away from the touch, or opt to cook dinner for him instead of cuddling on the couch.

Frances didn’t understand why John didn’t love him, and John had thought for so long that he was broken because of that. 

This prompted his sister to buy him a book, something about love languages that he really didn’t think he would read until it happened again.   
And again. 

Finally, he picked it up and started reading. 

Finally, it made sense. He wasn’t broken. 

John was getting used to touches from Alex though, and he was genuinely enjoying them. He even tried to return them when he could. It was a little weak, he knew that much, but he was trying his best. 

He would lean into Alex, hold his hand, initiate hugs and hold them as long as the other wanted. He would initiate gentle touches in bed, and wouldn’t escalate them at all. When he stopped and let himself think, it was because he knew Alex loved him either way, touches or no. 

Alex was the first one who understood when John shyly explained that he was a little touch adverse, he was the first to back down and let John initiate, let John be comfortable. 

He was the first who was genuine and the first that truly loved him. 

When they had the conversation, Alex shifted immediately. He would still snuggle up as soon as John said it was okay, and they would still brush and delicately hold hands in public, but there was something new, too. 

Alex understood the actions rather than touches. He started to write John poetry, volumes of the most beautiful words John had ever read. He never considered himself an artist, but he would still give John little doodles. He would make him dinner, he would bake cupcakes just because, surprise him with coffee in the mornings. 

Alexander, at his core, understood where they differed. Alexander was the first to offer to meet him in the middle, the first to trade touches for art.

Soon, they found a balance of what they both needed, something that, while it didn’t happen often, provided each of them with exactly what they needed. John proposed it a bit nervously one evening, when he didn’t ample supplies, and Alexander was all too eager to jump along. 

So they found themselves together in the strangest way, John with his paints and Alex shirtless before him. 

John poured his everything into painting Alex’s skin. Bright pops and swirls of color, beautiful florals, parchments and feathers swirled over Alex’s body and John made sure every stroke of his brush held all of the love he could muster. He traced out the pattern with delicate fingertips before following them with his brush, and Alex would curl into every movement like a cat, eager to follow the touch and drink in more. 

It was unconventional, but this was their love. This was their middle, and John never knew how perfect the middle could be.

**Author's Note:**

> whats up demons, its me, ya boi 
> 
> i re-read a piece that pip did a while back and was suddenly struck with the ungodly desire to write a companion piece to it. i love working with pip so much and every time i see something that they do, it tips me over the edge and inspires me to work, too <3 
> 
> so here's the companion, john centric piece to pip's "try new things"


End file.
